


Everything I’m Reaching For

by sparksfly7



Category: Aespa (Band)
Genre: 4+1 fic, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27752983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparksfly7/pseuds/sparksfly7
Summary: Winter takes her place beside Karina like she’s made to be there. Minjeong sneaks glances at Jimin and hopes she isn’t too obvious.Or: 4 times Minjeong reaches for Jimin’s hand (+1 time Jimin reaches for Minjeong’s)
Relationships: Kim Minjeong | Winter/Yoo Jimin | Karina
Comments: 10
Kudos: 113





	Everything I’m Reaching For

**Author's Note:**

> Ummmm idk how this happened. Actually no, so what happened is that I saw these pics of Winter looking at Karina on twitter and it inspired me to write a "4 times Minjeong looks at Jimin (+1 time Jimin looks at Minjeong)" fic but then that turned into a reaching for her hand fic and then it was 3am and this happened.

**i.** Minjeong has heard of Yoo Jimin before. The girl popular enough to have people flooding her ask.fm inbox, supposedly a triple threat in singing, dancing and rapping and, if that’s not enough, a future visual in the making.

She’s not as pretty as they said, Minjeong thinks when they finally meet. She’s prettier.

“Hi,” Jimin is the one to greet her, and she does it with a polite smile. She has a mole near the corner of her mouth. A beauty mark. “You must be Kim Minjeong.”

“You know me?” Minjeong asks curiously.

“I’ve heard of you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Minjeong says with a quirk of her mouth.

Jimin laughs. “Yes, definitely. I think we have a dance lesson together later. I’m looking forward to it.”

She doesn’t say it like a platitude or a challenge; she sounds sincere.

“I’m looking forward to it too,” Minjeong says, and impulsively holds out her hand.

Jimin blinks at her like she doesn’t know what to do, and then she reaches out her own to grasp Minjeong’s. They shake hands, and Minjeong dismisses the tingle she feels as static electricity.

**ii.** Jimin was born a year earlier, but Minjeong’s birthday is in January and she’s used to talking to people in Jimin’s year like they’re chingus. However, she knows some people don’t like that.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jimin says when Minjeong calls her unnie. “We’re the same age.”

“Some people don’t like it.”

“I’m not some people,” Jimin says, and Minjeong thinks, _no, you’re not_. “I thought Yizhuo was older than me and I called her unnie and she didn’t correct me.”

Minjeong laughs. “How long did you keep calling her unnie?”

“For a while. I think she thought it was funny.”

“It is funny. You can call me unnie too, if you want,” Minjeong jokes.

“Minjeong unnie,” Jimin says sweetly, and Minjeong’s mouth falls open. Jimin laughs so hard she falls back against the wall. “The look on your face!”

Minjeong rolls her eyes and tries to collect her jaw from the floor in a dignified manner. It’s one thing for her to call Jimin unnie, as some people would expect that, but it’s another thing entirely for Jimin to call her that, especially in that voice.

Jimin juts out her bottom lip. “You don’t like that, Minjeong unnie?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Minjeong says, her ears going hot, looking anywhere but at Jimin. “Go use that voice at one of the boys.”

“I don’t think a boy would be happy to be called unnie.”

“You know what I mean. Call one of your suitors oppa and they’ll probably float off out of happiness.”

“I don’t have ‘suitors,’” Jimin protests.

“Oh please. They’re practically lining up at the door.”

“Those are probably yours.”

Minjeong is confused now. “What?”

Jimin looks at her with a strange intensity. “There are tons of boys who like you.”

“Okay, like, two. Not like the ones fighting to talk to you.”

“It doesn’t matter even if there are,” Jimin says with a note of finality. “I’m not interested in any boys, anyway.”

“Not at all?” Minjeong asks, more invested than she realized in the answer.

“Not at all,” Jimin confirms, not the slightest bit of uncertainty in her voice. “Do you want to try the routine again?”

“Okay,” Minjeong says, springing to her feet, suddenly feeling lighter. “Can you show me how to get the spin right at the end?” she asks, holding a hand out to Jimin.

Jimin takes it and stands up. “Only if you show me how you keep your balance during the leg raise.”

“Sure,” Minjeong says, grinning, and Jimin smiles softly back at her.

**iii.** “Jimin?” Minjeong asks. “What’s wrong?”

Jimin’s head is lowered, her expression hidden. “Our debut is coming up.” Most people would say that with joy, excitement. Jimin says it like a prison sentence.

“Yes?” It comes out like a question.

“I’ve been waiting and hoping for this moment for so long, but I didn’t think it would be like this.”

“It’s not really…the most ideal timing,” Minjeong says carefully. “But a debut is a debut, right?”

“A debut is a debut,” Jimin repeats, except the words sound different, heavier, from her mouth.

Minjeong moves closer to her and looks squarely into her eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Jimin’s lips press into a thin line. “One of the managers told me they’re going to take legal action against the people who are spreading rumours about me.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? I mean, not that they’re spreading rumours, but that SM will do something about it.”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, but she doesn’t sound convinced.

“Jimin,” Minjeong says softly. “You know it’s not your fa—”

“They already hate us,” Jimin says, closing her eyes as if in defeat. “They hate me.”

“No,” Minjeong says insistently. “They don’t.”

Jimin’s lips move up in what can’t quite be called a smile. More like a grimace. “It would be okay if they only hated me,” she says, almost absently, “but they’re taking it out on you guys too, on the whole group. It’s not—”

“They don’t hate you,” Minjeong says. “They don’t even know you.”

“Minjeong.” Jimin opens her eyes then, and the expression in them is more than just sad or pained. It’s—tired. Bleak. “Since when do they need to know us to hate us? For that matter, the people who say they love us – they don’t know us either.”

 _I know you_ , Minjeong thinks. _I know you and I— I feel that way. You, Yoo Jimin, not Karina._

But she doesn’t say it. She can’t. She just looks at Jimin instead, looks at her and simultaneously hopes Jimin can read her thoughts in her eyes and dreads that she will.

“Sorry,” Jimin suddenly says, and smiles. It’s a pretty smile, her idol smile, and Minjeong’s stomach twists to see it. Or maybe, somewhere higher up. “I shouldn’t be saying all of this. It’s very negative to be talking like this ahead of our debut.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Minjeong says firmly. “I’m glad you’re telling me this. You should tell me these things. You can tell me anything.” The last part slips out of its own accord, but she doesn’t regret it.

Jimin looks at her for a long moment, eyes blank and dark, reflecting light but holding none, and then she smiles and it’s her real smile. “I know,” she says softly. “Thank you.”

She reaches for Minjeong’s hand, and their fingers slip together familiarly, effortlessly. Minjeong is the one to close her eyes this time, feeling safe, grounded, home.

**iv.** Is it strange, that she thinks of Winter as another person? Not æ-Winter or anything, but herself. Or at least, the idol her. The girl onstage who sings and dances her heart out, the girl in front of the camera who shows no signs of nervousness, the girl the fans are already comparing to illustrious seniors. Winter is confident and polished and fearless. Minjeong—isn’t. Minjeong is nervous and scared and hopeful, but hope is so hard to pull through the mires of anxiety.

Winter takes her place beside Karina like she’s made to be there. Minjeong sneaks glances at Jimin and hopes she isn’t too obvious.

She’s mulled (or as Aeri would put it, angsted) over it endlessly, but she can’t deny it. What she once thought of as a close friendship – wanting to be around Jimin all the time, feeling lighter when she smiled, thinking about her when she wasn’t there – is more than that. Much more. For that matter, it’s much more than a simple crush too.

She’s scared. This isn’t a fellow trainee shyly confessing to her and her awkwardly fumbling her way through a rejection, feeling guilty even though she knew she didn’t owe the other person anything. This is, this is—Jimin. Her best friend, her fellow member, her leader. The girl who matches her dance steps so smoothly it’s like they were made to dance together, the girl who comforted her when she cried over homesickness and snuck out to eat foods definitely not on their diet list with her, the girl who she reached for as easily as breathing and yet froze with her hand midway in the air, afraid of being left hanging.

But Jimin has always caught her hand.

“Minjeongie?”

She’s always thought the whole ‘heart skipped a beat’ thing is a cliché, but at that voice, at that name, her heart skips a beat.

“J-Jimin unnie?”

“Why are you calling me unnie?” Jimin laughs. “Have Aeri and Yizhuo gotten to you?”

“I-I don’t know. It slipped out.”

Jimin’s eyebrows draw together. “Why do you sound so nervous?”

 _Because of you!_ Minjeong screams internally, but she just forces a smile. “No reason. I mean, I guess I am nervous.”

Jimin’s expression turns knowing, sympathetic. “I am too,” she says. “It’s nerve-racking, isn’t it? Being out there. Having everyone’s eyes on you.”

“Nobody could tell that you’re nervous,” Minjeong says. Jimin – Karina – always dances like she owns the stage.

“Not even you?” Jimin asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not nobody.” Only after Minjeong says it does she realize how lame it sounds. “Okay, it sounded better when you said ‘I’m not some people.’ You know what I mean.”

“Well, you’re definitely not a nobody,” Jimin says, smiling. “And you remember I said that, huh?”

“Of course,” Minjeong says. Was it just a meaningless conversation to Jimin?

“It was a long time ago,” Jimin murmurs.

“I guess it was. It’s hard to keep track of time.” How long has she known Jimin? She knows it’s about four years, but if she thinks about it, she can probably narrow it down to the number of months, if not weeks. How long has she loved Jimin? She’s not sure she knows the answer to that herself.

“This is how we keep track of it now. How long since our debut. How long until our next comeback. How long until we’re not considered rookies.”

 _How long until everyone gets tired of us,_ Minjeong wonders wryly, cynically. What she says, however, is, “It sounds simple when you put it like that.”

Jimin blinks. “Does it?”

“Simple but scary. Scarily simple. Simply scary.” Minjeong lets out an airy laugh. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

Jimin gives her that amused but fond smile that comes out when she finds Minjeong particularly endearing but also potentially concerning. “It’s okay. Ramble away.”

“You don’t want to hear me ramble,” Minjeong says. She doesn’t even want to hear herself ramble.

“I like listening to you talk,” Jimin says simply. “Feel free to talk about whatever you want. You know you can tell me anything.”

It’s those words, the very words she had said to Jimin, that almost unravel her. She finds her breathing hitch, and she has to cover her face with her hands so everything she feels isn’t spelled out on it.

“Minjeong?” Jimin asks, concerned. “Minjeongie, what’s wrong?”

“I’m scared.” Minjeong doesn’t mean to say it, but the words run out of her mouth, escaping through the gaps in her cupped fingers. “I’m so scared, Jimin.”

“It’s okay.” Jimin’s voice is achingly gentle. “You can be scared. We’re all scared, you’re not facing it alone.”

“No.” Minjeong hiccups. “You don’t get it.” _I’m scared of ruining everything. I’m scared of losing you._

“I don’t get it?” Jimin laughs. “I’m the most scared out of everyone, Minjeong. And I’m the one who can least afford to be.”

That sobers Minjeong. She takes her hands away from her face and looks up, grateful that her eyes are dry, and sees Jimin staring at her softly but intensely. She promptly wants to cover her face again but manages to control herself.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Jimin says in that gentle voice again. “People will tell you not to be, to toughen up, to build a shell, but I think that we should let ourselves feel it and know it’ll be there. And to do our best regardless.”

Minjeong mulls over the words, letting them wash over her, wrap around her. “Okay,” she says quietly.

“Okay?” Jimin asks, and Minjeong knows she’s really asking, _are you okay?_

Minjeong smiles at her, and something flits across Jimin’s expression, gone too quickly for Minjeong to identify it. She holds her hand out, palm up in the air, and even as Jimin’s eyes linger on hers, searching, Jimin’s hand finds its way into Minjeong’s.

Minjeong squeezes, a silent _thank you_ , and Jimin squeezes back, an equally wordless _you’re welcome_ and _I’m here._

**v. (i.)** “So,” Aeri says. “Do you want the chicken or the pork?”

“Either one is fine,” Minjeong says, eyes still on her iPad.

“Salad or soup?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“When are you and Jimin unnie going to stop making moon eyes at each other and finally get together?”

Minjeong almost drops her iPad. “What?!” she screeches.

Aeri rubs her ears with a pained expression. “Are you trying to dethrone Yizhuo as the main vocal or something? That was an insane note.” Minjeong just keeps staring at her. “I was hoping if I kept asking you easy questions, you wouldn’t notice I slipped that one in.”

Minjeong stares at her. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Okay, no need to resort to insults,” Aeri says with a pout.

“No, I mean – you’re being ridiculous about this. I don’t – Jimin and I aren’t—” But Minjeong can feel the blush settling over her cheeks, giving her away. Damn it, where did all those acting lessons go?

“Suuure you aren’t,” Aeri says, sounding supremely unconvinced. “That’s why she looks at you like the greatest thing since kimchi. And looks at other people looking at you with so much salt she can make kimchi.”

“Your analogies make no sense,” Minjeong scoffs, trying to quell her blush as it flares brighter.

“They make plenty of sense. You just don’t want to admit that I’m right.”

“Jimin doesn’t have feelings for me.”

“Why not?”

“She – she can’t. She’s too…busy.”

Aeri is the one to look at Minjeong like she’s questioning her sanity now. “Oh, and we’re just lounging around all day doing nothing?”

“Well, you clearly are, if you’re so interested in our love lives,” Minjeong snorts. “Which don’t exist!” she adds hastily.

Aeri raises her eyebrows. “I noticed you’re not denying your feelings for her.”

Minjeong is silent for a moment. “She’s really important to me,” she says quietly. “I mean, all of you are, of course, but.”

“But you don’t want to kiss me,” Aeri says. “I mean, that’s your loss.” Minjeong manages a laugh at that, but Aeri doesn’t smile back. Instead, she looks thoughtful. “Look, Jimin unnie is a good leader and she treats all of us well, but it’s hardly a secret that you’re her favourite. And I don’t mean that in a favourite dongsaeng kind of way. You’re…special to her. Don’t tell me you can’t see it.”

“Just because I’m special to her doesn’t mean she returns my feelings,” Minjeong says with calmness she doesn’t feel.

“It doesn’t,” Aeri agrees, “but the way she checks you out is a pretty good indicator.”

“Aeri!” Minjeong splutters.

“Look, you asked for my advice and I’m giving it.”

“I didn’t ask you for anything—”

Aeri continues, unperturbed. “Yizhuo and I are going to set up a bet one of these days about which one of you makes the first move.”

Minjeong groans. “Yizhuo knows too?”

“Anyone with eyes and brain cells knows. Except you two.”

“Well, that would disqualify you, since you obviously don’t have the latter,” Minjeong teases, and dodges the blow from Aeri’s elbow.

“So,” Aeri says expectantly.

“So what?”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“What, you want to win in your bet with Yizhuo?”

“Oh, come on. You know it’s not that. I don’t like seeing you mope around when you could be happy with Jimin unnie.”

“I’m not moping,” Minjeong protests. “And you don’t know that it could work out. What if we try and it doesn’t work and we ruin the group dynamics? It’s just too big of a risk to take.”

“Minjeong,” Aeri says in a reasonable voice, which is rather frightening, because if Aeri is the voice of reason it must really say something about her situation. “It’s true that she could reject you, or you could try and it wouldn’t work”—Minjeong almost interrupts to ask her if she has a positive point to make out of all this, but Aeri, as if anticipating it, holds up a finger to silence her—“but how do you know what’ll happen? Why are you setting yourself up for the worst case scenario but not allowing yourself to think of the best?”

Because, Minjeong thinks, she can’t have that and then lose it. It’s better to not even think of it, to not let herself hope.

Maybe she says some of that out loud, because Aeri frowns. “I didn’t think you were such a pessimist.”

“Neither did I,” Minjeong says wryly.

“I really think you should tell Jimin unnie.”

“Tell me what?” Jimin asks, coming out of absolutely nowhere, and Minjeong just stares at her like a deer frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car.

“I—have to go,” Aeri says, looking between the two of them and practically jumping out of her seat. “I ordered food and it’ll be here soon.”

Minjeong should probably ask Aeri to save some of that for her, but she can’t manage something as complicated as speech right now.

“Tell me what, Minjeong?” Jimin asks expectantly, probably thinking it’s a simple thing like ‘I left my slippers in your room’ or ‘I want to go over the schedule again.’ Really, technically, it would be simple to say. They’re just three words, after all. Three scarily simple, simply scary words.

“Jimin,” Minjeong says.

“Yes?” Jimin asks patiently.

“Jimin, I—” But her throat locks up on her. She can only stare at Jimin, hopefully, helplessly, scared that Jimin won’t understand her, scared that she will.

Jimin reaches for her and takes her hands and only then does Minjeong realize she’s curled them into such tight fists that her nails are digging into her palms. Jimin gently uncurls her fingers but then doesn’t let go afterwards, keeping Minjeong’s hands cupped in her own.

“Minjeongie,” she says softly, affectionately. “I’ve been so scared to say this to you, and I’ve told myself to and I’ve told myself not to a hundred times, but then I decided I had to suck it up and take my own advice.” She stops and swallows, and Minjeong realizes how nervous she is. “I just hope you know I don’t expect anything from you, and I won’t say this doesn’t change anything because it can change a lot, and maybe not in a good way, but I have to tell you this—” She says everything in one breath and runs out of air and is left gasping, and Minjeong stares at her in a different way, a mixture of _how are you so cute_ and _how are you so ridiculous_ and _how am I so lucky to have you?_

“Iloveyou.”

They say it at the same time, and they both sound breathless and nervous and exhilarated, which makes the words about ten times less comprehensible.

“W-what?” Jimin stammers. “What did you say?”

“What did _you_ say?” Minjeong asks.

“I said that I love you.” Jimin blushes but holds Minjeong’s gaze. “And what did you say?”

“I said the same thing,” Minjeong says, somehow feigning casualness even as she wants to do a dance at hearing the words said slowly and clearly, unmistakable and unforgettable. “So, good thing we’re on the same page!”

“I—you—” Jimin’s eyes are wide, her mouth agape, and then she closes her mouth before breaking into a brilliant smile. “We are?” she says in a quiet, almost disbelieving voice. “All this time I’ve been so scared and.”

“I’ve been scared too,” Minjeong admits. “I even told you, right? That I was scared.”

“I thought you were talking about aespa.”

“I know,” Minjeong says. “I wanted you to think that. I mean, I am too, but. Mostly it’s been you.” She’s blushing again, she can feel it. She’s not typically a blusher, but when it comes to Jimin, typicals seem to go flying out the window.

Suddenly Jimin’s fingers are cupping her face, making her cheeks even warmer. “Minjeongie,” Jimin says, and there is so much warmth, so much affection in her voice it makes Minjeong shiver. “You don’t have anything to be scared of when it comes to me.”

And then Jimin’s mouth comes down on hers, soft at first, tentative, but when Minjeong responds, the kiss turns harder, more urgent, like they’re both trying to make up for months of loaded silences and fleeting touches when they could’ve had this.

“So this is what you wanted to tell me?” Jimin asks. “When you were talking to Aeri?”

Minjeong bites her lip and watches Jimin’s eyes track the motion. “Yeah.”

“Does that mean Aeri knows?”

“I didn’t know she knew until today, but – yeah. And Yizhuo too. Apparently we’ve been quite obvious.”

“Have we now?” Jimin murmurs, her fingers tracing a line from Minjeong’s jaw to her shoulder, eliciting another shiver.

“According to Aeri, anyone with eyes and brain cells could have figured it out.”

“That explains why you didn’t,” Jimin says playfully, and Minjeong scowls at her.

“Hey, you can’t kiss me if you’re going to call me blind and stupid.”

Jimin blinks innocently. “But you make me blind and stupid.”

Minjeong’s cheeks warm. “I do?”

“Yes,” Jimin says seriously. “You do…so much to me. You make me feel so much.”

Minjeong prides herself on her wit and quick reactions, but apparently those flew out the window too. “You—do that to me too. So much.”

And Jimin smiles at her like she heard everything Minjeong has been trying to say.


End file.
